


Goodbye, My Almost Lover

by magicmark



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Flashbacks & Flashforwards, Fluff and Angst, M/M, its kinda just a journey into their relationship??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-28 20:22:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17189777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicmark/pseuds/magicmark
Summary: A look into the friendship—and relationship— of Michael Kahale and Octavian.





	1. Chapter 1

Michael was fourteen when he first went to camp.

He’d had a long journey. The wolf taught him, trained him, and yet he couldn’t recall what even happened. His memory felt raw and barren, as though years and years of knowledge was suddenly taken from him. And perhaps that was the case; he was sure he’d never get an answer.

He remembered leaving the wolf - Lupa, was it? - when she said he was ready.  _ Ready for what? _ , he wondered, but she didn’t give him any details. Just a direction to take, and that someone, or  _ something _ , would be waiting for him.

He had nothing to bring with him. His journey started then and there.

The young teen spent hours trying to find his way out of the wooded area; this was the last thing he thought he’d need knowledge on. In the back of his mind, there was a tugging sensation, as if to tell him that he was used to woods and forests, but he simply couldn’t bring himself to remember.

When he finally broke free of the trees and wild animals, he was greeted by one of those ‘somethings’ Lupa had promised - some sort of large, hairy monster stood in his way, blocking his path. His first instinct was to fight it, but what good would that do? He was only a boy.

He searched his surroundings for something he could hold, something he could fight back with. The sole thing he could find was a long tree branch.

Michael picked up the branch and swung, hitting the monster in one of its legs. It howled in pain, and Michael took the opportunity to climb it ever so slowly, and swung again. And again. Until, soon after, there was nothing left but a bruised boy and a half-broken stick.

Was the whole journey going to be like this?

  
  


It took over two days to find the camp borders.

Two days of fighting off beasts with nothing but that blasted branch. Two days of no food, no one to talk to, nothing. Two days where he had to be brave and force himself not to cry, in fear it might attract another monster.

Just as he had had enough, he saw what Lupa said: two, no, three people, maybe his age, guarding an area that otherwise looked closed off. All were wearing sorts of armour he’d seen in movies, but this look… it was absolutely terrifying in person.

He gulped. Then he ran.

 

 

Michael Kahale passed out once he got inside the borders.

When he woke up, he was in a bed; no blankets of any sort, just a flattened pillow and a single stuffed bear. On the bedside table there was a strange looking glass, filled with something of a mahogany colour.

Next to his bed sat a stranger.

The stranger was… what was he? Handsome? No, he looked lethal. His blond hair was stringy and mangled, as though it hadn’t been properly taken care of, and his blue eyes showed off years of fear. He looked sickly and worn, like the stuffed animal. Maybe it was his; maybe he’d been spending the past while with him, and he needed it to keep calm.

Michael sat up slowly, but the boy pushed him back down. “Rest,” he said quietly. He ran a hand through his hair, and offered a pathetic smile. “You should be grateful. You’ve got a sponsor.”

The Hawaiian boy raised an eyebrow. A sponsor? What in Hades was that?

“You must be mistaken,” he laughed. He sat up again, and this time the blond boy didn’t stop him. “This isn’t  _ The Hunger Games. _ I don’t need a sponsor.”

The blond boy - who must’ve been a year younger than Michael - sighed. “I don’t know what a ‘Hunger Games’ is, unless you’re talking about how we sometimes choose war games over food. But you do need a sponsor here, and lucky for you, it was me.”

Michael wanted to protest, but the blond continued. “I’m Octavian, by the way. I’m the camp Augur. You should be happy; I gave you my last stuffed bear.” He let a sigh escape again. “It’s always teenagers arriving nowadays, and they never bring any offerings. Pathetic.”

He looked at Michael with wonder in his eyes, and he flashed a toothy grin. “I’ve been here all my life,” he admitted. “Almost as long as Jason, who you’ll meet eventually. I’ll be showing you around, getting you used to everything… that’s what sponsors do, I guess… at least I like you enough.”

“Thanks?”

But Octavian wasn’t finished. He stood up so quickly, Michael felt dizzy. He made a point in standing at the end of the bed, where there must’ve been a stepping stool, as he now looked about Mike’s height. He finally got a good look at the boy: he wore what appeared to be a white toga made out of a bedsheet - his bed sheet - and there was a knife tied to his belt. Suddenly Michael longed for home.

“What is this place?” He asked, his voice quiet. He held his head low.

Octavian clapped his hands with excitement. “I’m so glad you asked!” He said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “This is Camp Jupiter, a camp for Roman demigods, such as you and I. Here we train and fight, we play war games, and sometimes we’ll have a celebration for the gods. It’s better than life back home, in my personal opinion.” While he said that, he hinted at a bit of sadness in his voice, but Michael knew better than to ask him about it.

Octavian looked once more at Michael, and his smile turned into a frown. “You want to get up? I’ll show you around.”

 

***


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> woah wow, me? updating? is this some alternate universe?

Octavian used to have friends.

There’s emphasis on ‘used to’. He had his family and playmates back home in Louisiana, but at camp? At camp he had Reyna, and he had Jason.

They used to be his friends, too. The three of them used to always play war games together, always helping the other out, even if they were on different teams. Dinners were spent together, sometimes somewhere quiet, like near the entryway to New Rome. They had expeditions to the city every Friday as a treat; a ‘hey, we didn’t die’ sort of thing.

Now Octavian was eighteen, and he had nobody.

  
  


He spent almost every waking moment in the Temple of Jupiter; he even had a few pillows set out on the floor. There were carcases of stuffed friends spread out around the mighty statue, but near a pillow, there was one remaining.

Octavian hated being called ‘the stuffed animal killer’. He hated that, for his birthday every year, the only thing anyone would give him would be a stuffed bear or something along those lines, with a message sewn on the bottom of it begging for its mercy. And he despised that, no matter what, Michael Kahale never celebrated with him.

He knew his eighteenth birthday wouldn’t be grand - everyone would either forget, leave him an ‘offering’, or they’d jeer at him until he threatened them. Nobody would care that he was now an adult - that he was now able to vote in the real world. He could move out, get a great job, start a family with someone. At camp, nobody cared a wit about that. If you stayed at camp longer than two weeks, you were as much an adult mentally as a real one.

“Oh, shut up, brain,” the teen muttered to himself. He wandered the temple mindlessly, stepping over stuffed animals, one by one. There was barely any walking room at that point, but he didn’t mind. If he needed to, he’d give those un-stuffed animals to some campers for Christmas.

It’s not that he really missed his friends - he knew nobody trusted him, and it was his own damn fault for it. It was just the thought of having nobody, and the knowledge that, really, nobody would care if he were to up and leave. He was another page in an unread, unwanted novel that no one would read.

What he didn’t know was that, while he stood around the temple, willing himself not to cry, his one half-friend waited outside for him.

Michael Kahale was no coward. While he knew everyone feared or disliked Octavian, he couldn’t help but be drawn to him, as though he were a magnet. Something was odd, very odd about the blond, but the oddities made him something to behold.

He knocked on the base of the statue. Octavian turned, his cheeks stained red with light tears, but he smiled.

“I suppose you’re here to tell me everyone wants me gone now,” the lanky teen sighed. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. “If they’ll allow it, I may have a place in New Rome, so I won’t be affiliated with camp.”

“Don’t be stupid, Tavs.” Michael walked to the blond, and cupped his face in his hand. He tilted his head, glancing at Octavian with a look of half-sorrow, half… he wasn’t sure.

“Well, I doubt you’re here to make me change my mind.”

Octavian was right, perhaps, Michael thought. He hadn’t come to tell his friend of sorts to leave - on the contrary, he came to say some other words.

He moved his hand, placing it on the shorter boy’s shoulder. “I just want what’s best for my sponsor, okay? If leaving is what’s best for you, do it. Just know I’ll be-”

Octavian cut him off. “Don’t give me that ‘I’m sorry to see you go’ talk, Kahale. We aren’t close. We’ve never been. I’m just your sponsor, you’re just the boy I sponsored, and that’s all. If you think there’s anything more to us than that, you’re absolutely-”

“Listen!” Michael didn’t mean to shout, but he did; Octavian took a step back, startled. His eyes softened, and he formed a half smile. “I like you, okay? You may be the biggest prick at camp, but you’re you. You don’t try to act all brave or anything, because you are brave, and I admire that.”

The blond opened his mouth, but ultimately closed it again, unable to find any words. He crossed his arms over his chest. “If that’s your idea of a declaration of love, it’s pretty weak... “ When he saw the look Michael wore, one of offence, he softened. “...but I like you too, Michael.”

Michael grinned, and soon he was walking closer and closer to Octavian, until the blond was backed into the statue of Jupiter. He took him by the hand. “You… you dimwit, you can’t be all dramatic on me like that!”

He pecked a kiss to Octavian’s cheek.

When he moved back, Octavian grabbed hold of Michael’s collar and kissed him, hard, on the lips. He wrapped his arms around the nineteen year old, pulling them closer together, until he swore he could feel Michael’s heartbeat.

They broke away; both young men were red in the face. Michael stammered, looking for something to say. Octavian smirked.

“I’m quite glad,” he whispered, looking straight at his friend, “that I have a friend in you.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Oh shit, Tavs, if friends do this all the time, then we’re just acquaintances. Did you not learn anything from that kiss?”

The blond laughed, a laugh so loud and musical that Michael couldn’t help but melt over.

“What are we, then?”

The brunet sighed softly. He looked around their area, praying to the gods nobody saw them… but, at the same time, he hoped that someone did. He was about to speak when Octavian hugged him.

Octavian… hugged him…

Michael was sure this was a dream.

He hugged back, unsure of what to do. Octavian was so boney, so thin, and Michael was all muscles; he didn’t want to crush the poor fellow. He let Octavian sink into the hug, and it hit him: maybe his sponsor needed one, for years and years.

He let Octavian cuddle into him for a while, until he heard faint snores escaping the boy’s mouth. Michael looked down and sure enough, he was fast asleep. Careful as he could be, he dragged Octavian over to his spot on the floor and laid him down; he sat at his side. He pressed a sweet kiss to his forehead, a smile so bright on his face.

“Sleep well, my… friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there guys, I hope you enjoyed! I know this is short, but this fic is a mix of flashbacks, flash forwards, and stuff that happens during the series.  
> Have a good New Years!
> 
>  
> 
> Twitter: octkahale


	3. Chapter 3

“Gods, Octavian, close your eyes!”

There were many things Octavian didn’t like, and having someone’s hands over his eyes was at the top of the list. Why he ever agreed to let his fiance do this, he didn’t know, but Michael Kahale seemed to be having a field day.

It was Christmas; his least favourite holiday, now that they weren’t at camp. Christmas as an adult means you have to buy things for your loved ones, or at least get them one of those cringy ‘Happy Holidays’ greeting cards. He much prefered the days when he was the one receiving gifts, not giving them.

Now, with his family and his in-laws visiting, he had to be all festive.

Michael managed to get Octavian in a Christmas sweater, but that was the most he could do while he was awake (he may or may not have put some tinsel in his hair while Octavian slept). He wanted his lover to look nice in front of their families, which was almost asking the impossible. Octavian was like the Grinch during the holidays.

He didn’t understand why. Now that they had their apartment, their families were always visiting. Mr Kahale came and went every month with new housewarming gifts and hugs for his future son-in-law, and Octavian’s mother and his siblings always brought a warm batch of cookies (oftentimes just for Michael). It was a dream come true, getting to see their families again; Michael forgot the last time he ever saw his dad after he joined camp, and this… this was nice.

He kept his hands over Octavian’s eyes as he lead him into their small living room, where Octavian’s sister Livia was sitting on the floor. Michael put his fingers to his lips as Livia began giggling, hoping she’d keep quiet, to keep the surprise at bay. Octavian’s mother was on the sofa, smiling, with her camera ready in case a photo was needed.

When they made it to the sofa, Michael released Octavian from his hold; he stumbled at first, running right into his mother, but soon Octavian opened his eyes and looked around. He smiled to himself.

“Okay… what am I looking for?”

Michael chuckled to himself. He handed his fiance a small rectangular box, with the words ‘to my dearest’ written on the ribbon. “Open it!”

Rolling his eyes, Octavian took the box, and ripped open the packaging as quick as he can. He barely heard Michael say, “that’s just one of your gifts!”; he was so entranced by the small box, and whatever in hell his dumb fiance got him.

He reached the official box after opening three others (“Gods, Michael, that’s a bit much, don’t you think?”). His mother readied her camera, and Livia leaned forward, looking rather excited at whatever her brother was getting.

He opened it. And he looked at Michael.

“There’s no way in hell you’re serious.”

In his hands were two plane tickets; two to Rome. Rome, the home away from home to Octavian. The home he always dreamed of visiting. Tears welled in his eyes as he rushed over to Michael, and he engulfed him in a hug.

“You know me so well.”

Michael shook his head, tears forming in his eyes. “Yeah, well, that’s not all.”

Octavian pulled away, a look of confusion in his eyes. “It better be. I only got you one thing, and you’ve already opened it!”

His fiance just shushed him and sat him down next to his mother. He ran out of the room quickly, and returned about three minutes later, holding the weirdest looking box Octavian and his family had ever seen.

“Sorry,” Mike said, looking at the box. “I suck at wrapping; I had Gwen wrap the last one for me.” He handed the box over, and sat on the arm of the sofa. “Go on and open it.”

“Don’t rush me, don’t rush me,” Octavian whined. He took the box greedily, making Michael laugh. This time he was more careful opening it; it took a full minute before he finally unwrapped the box. The box was odd-shaped all right; it looked like a plus sign, which it may have been. Octavian didn’t take time to really appreciate the box. He dug into it, and after a few seconds, pulled out…

“It’s, uh, a scrapbook,” Michael whispered, his voice barely loud enough for Octavian to hear. He bit his lip. “Of our time together. Dakota thought you had a thing for me back in the day, so he and Gwen kept taking Polaroids behind our backs. They gave them to me a few weeks ago and I thought… I don’t know, do you like it?”

His fiance studied the photo album slowly, taking in everything he could from it. The book was purple-and-gold, the colours of camp, of home, and he barely wanted to open the book in fear of forgetting camp. But Michael helped him open it, and he choked back a sob.

The photos… oh, the photos…

There were pictures from Michael’s first week at camp. Little Octavian was as short and thin as ever, but he was always around Michael; Michael, even at fourteen, at fifteen, had learned the true meaning of love back then, you could tell from the way he gazed at his then-friend. The pages went on, as did the pictures; there were some from the war games, when Octavian and Michael would sneak a kiss when they had a victory. There were pictures of them holding hands, of Octavian sleeping in his boyfriend’s bed on sleepless nights; there were pictures of every memorable event in their relationship, and Octavian was having the hardest time not crying; he didn’t even notice when his mother took a picture.

“There’s another one for the book!” She smiled.

His mother handed him the new and developing picture, while he wiped tears from his face. He beamed, to her, to his sister. To Michael. He extended his hand to him, grateful when he took it, and smiled so brightly.

“You, Michael Kahale, are the best Christmas gift I could ever ask for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please feel free to comment or leave kudos; they’re always welcomed!
> 
>  
> 
> Twitter: octkahale

**Author's Note:**

> hey there! I hope you’ve enjoyed; please feel free to leave a comment or kudos!!
> 
> twitter: octkahale


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